THE BUSY lUc-WORM.
A Cool Ntorr Told In All Nrli)tmne hj a
ttrniliMtw (N. I.mfjr.
"it Booms hh if overy yeur adds to
tho lint of posts whloh are Bent lor
Home roiiHon to torment poor Buffering
humanity," said a lady toaroportor.
She evidently had soraothlng on her
inlnd bostons potato bugs, eubbage
worms, grubs and thousand of de
structive insects which proy upon vog
etatlon generally and on "ovory thing;
green" except whlto gocso and college
freshmen. "I have been bothered by
carpet worniH, moth millers, rod and
black ants, roaches and Croton bugs,
but thoy are nothing compared to the
lutflHt pOHt.
"What is this plajjueP" said the re
porter. "Is it possible that you never
hoard of the Ice-worm?" said the lady
with aHtonlHhinont depleted on every
feature of her countenance. "Why, I
recollect that tho Ice crop along the
Hudson was ruluodby this postseveral
yours ago, or, at least, the newspapers
said It was. The worm moved West,
according to report, and at least two
years ago It was etatod that the ici
dealers inclosed their store-house
with fine-wire netting to keep th
worms from getting at the congealed
water. It would seem that this pre
caution was unavailing, and scientists
now say that the worm is loft in the
water in the shape of an egg, frozen
up in the ice and hatched out in the
spring."
"How dooB it affect the iueP" asked
the reporter.
"Its ravapes ao not apparent until
the cakes of ice are broken up for use,"
was the reply. "If the men who de
liver the duy'a supply notioo that a
cuke is light weight they don't say any
thing, but put it in tho refrigerator
with as much apparent muscular effoct
as if It were solid instend of being a
hollow delusion. The trouble comes
when it is broken up for table use.
The thin shell is fractured easily, and
out comes a wriggling mass of long
black worms as thick as my linger, and
anywhere from six inches to a fool
long. My Bridget noarly went crazy
tho first time she saw these horrible
creatures, but now we are all used to
them. They are harmless and can be
tamed and taught many little tricks,
and thus thoy afford endless amuse
ment for the ehildron. They must be
kopt in a cool pluve, however, else they
die at once. We find just as many ol
these worms in lake ice as in that
taken from the canal, but the latter
aro the more ferocious and show fight
when touched. If you will call about
dinner time I will give you a chance to
Interview the posts." The reporter
did not call as he had another engage
ment. Hot-hosier Post-Express.
OUR COAST DEFENSE.
Advan tngea to He llerlved from the Em
ployment of Kleotrlolty.
Electricity plays perhaps the mosl
wonderful part in all those huge works.
Not far from the main fort, there
would be built a little round building.
This would bo the place for the "towpr
of observation" of the commanding
officer. From here he could see all
over the harbor and away out to sea.
The tower would be strong, and inside
would be tho wonderful key-boards ol
the electric system. By means ol
these, the commandor could tolephone
to the Captain of any battery to load
his guns, and aim thorn at such and
such an tingle and direction. The Cap
tain of the battery would do to and
telephone buck the moment he wiw
ready. Tho commander could tell the
Captain to fire, or he could, il
he oiioso. press a little key
and himself fire euch gun
singly or all the guns at once,
lie could do the same with all the bat
teries and forts, and he could, from hit
little tower mllos awuy, by a light
touch of his linger explode every gun
in the harbor, and send tons and tons
of metal flying with crushing force at
any vessel ho pleused. He could do
even more. IIo could explode any. or
all, of the mines and torpedoes at
once, or he could have one grand
simultaneous explosion of all the guns,
torpedoes and mines. At each fort
and battery would bo statlonod officers
who by means of instruments would
find exactly the course of ihe enemy's
ships. This would bo tolographod to
tho commander, who would thus know
at every instant just whore any vessel
Is, and how fast she is sailing. So he
could predict that a ship will puss 8
cortaiu spot at a certain time, and, il
she did not change her course,
could press the koy, and blow
up the vessel, or send at hor a
huge bolt of iron or steel. If the
enemy had landod a force on the main
land down the coast, and it was
marching on the fort to take it in the
rear, the commandor could wait till
le saw tho force on a road approach-
a fart, when, pressing another
ey, sevoral iron aoors 01 tne ion
would open and automatic machine
gutiB pop out, and commence firing at
the rate of six hundred shots per min
ute apiece, and keep it up until the
koy was pressed again, when they
wouiu wuuui tne b.Jioiun close.
It can be soon that the commander
should know absolutely all that is .go
ing on. as otherwise he might fire into
his own forts, or on hi own patrol
boats. Llout. W. R ILi rail ton, U. S.
A., in St. Nicholas
Time, to tW housewife' Is rrtonov-
consequently, purchase such machines
i as will save both. One can not afford
to beat eggs with a fork, when for ten
cents a beater can be purchased that
will do the work In one-tenth the time.
A farina boiler is a necessity, as thore
is no danger of scorching and wasting
the food. A meat chopper and braising
pi enable one to use the cheaper pieces
of meat. There are many other ma
chines which are of great use in Intelli
gent hands.
FboU Showing That They Sometimes Prey
Upon Human Bering.
The curator of Riddell Museum, Agra,
reported that the following had been
found in the stomach of a large gharial,
v.kon near the city: "About a dozen
large bunches of hair (probably kuman),
sixty-eight pebbles, averaging in size
from nearly three inches to one inch in
diameter, one large bangle, twenty-four
fragments of vitreous armlets, five
bronze finger-rings, one small silver
neck-charm (a small defaced coin with
a metal loop), one gold bead, one largish
bead of black stone, thirty small red
necklace beads." These things, savsthe
reporter, must have been on the body of
some woman, if not more than one, who
had been devoured. These facts prove
that the gharial sometimes preys upon
human beings.
Crocodiles attain a great size, up to
fifteen, eighteen, twenty feet or more in
length, and are found in many Indian
rivers, estuaries, lakes and tanks, or
marshes. All are bloodthirsty creatures;
but they are said to be fonder of carrion
than of fresh food.
The returns of 1887, when compared
with those of past years, do not show
much improvement, for wild animals
still abound in many localities, and hu
man beings are killed by them at the
same rate as during former years. It
would be difficult to estimate the value
of property destroyed, for that of 55.000
bead of cattle is not the mere money
value alone, hut represents food lost and
tillage prevented; and who can pretend
to formulate the money equivalent
albeit life has never been set very high
in India of 25.000 human lives? But
one may imagine the despondency and
desolation of the survivors, the deteri
orating effect on cultivation, and the in
dustrial energy of the communities
which sustain these losses, as well as
tho paralyzing effects on progress, com
fort and prosperity. London Standard.
Grave-Yards in London.
A return bus just been Issued from
the Home Otlice. dealing with the sub
ject of metropolitan cemeteries. Of the
twenty-three enses which have fallen
within the i;oope of this Inquiry, it ap
pears thut the City of London and Tow
er Hamlets Cemetery. Mile-end. leads
off with a ghastly tenantry of some
217,(XK) bodies, while the All Souls
Keiisnl Green, occupies the largest
area, comprising some sixty-nine acres,
and also enjoys the priority of age.
As regards the space allotted for each
grave, some disparity is observable,
nine feet by six feet six inches being
the maximum limit. The common in
terment system is very general, it be
ing, for instance, the practice in some
districts to bury us many as eight to
ton adults, or twelve children and
grown-up persons mixed, in a common
resting clace. Loudon TelepraDb,
antiqueVurniture.
How a Clever Young Woman Has Built
I p a 1'rotltable IlunlneHa.
A clever young woman Is building up
a business of a somewhat novel char
acter in New York and Brooklyn. Trav
eling agents have long made a good
thing out of antique furniture picked up
in the wilds of rural Hampshire and
Connecticut, inducing farmers' wives to
ransack their attics and bring out mir
rors that only wanted regilding, or
brass-handled chests of drawers in want
of nothing but polish and varnish to
fetch round sums from modern worship
er of bric-a-bruo gone by. The bes';
hunting ground for such things, curi
ously enough, has been overlooked al
most entirely. New York and Brook
lyn, as things go in this country, are an
oient cities. There are low-browed
Dutch homesteads within tho limits of
the former city, and old houses on Seo
ond avenue, in the Washington square
region, and on Fifth avenue itself, in
Jw York, which only need to yield up
their treasures to delight all the lovers
of last century carved oak, mirror-front
wardrobes, rare spindle-legged monstros
ities and choice bits of buhl. This young
woman has begun a series of tours
among the stately old mansions sunk to
sooond-class boarding houses, or gone
yet further on the road of neglect and
decay, and when she finds a relic of past
grandeur, she rehabilitates it and intro
duces it to an art lover, or a curio lovor,
or a person ambitious of the repute of an
art or curio lover with money. An old
ebony cabinet, Inlaid with mother of
pearl, an old dressiu.r-table, with a tray
of Sevres let into the top, an old chair,
oovered with French flowered satins of
the early years of tho century, these are
grand dukes in banishment to be re
stored to their lost estate. It is pleas
ant business for a young woman with
some knowledge, a good eyo and better
judgment, and she makes it orofltable.
AT ARROMANCHES.
The Untold, Hopeless Love of the
Poor Fisher-Girl.
Such a dollghtful rido as it is from
Bayeux to Arromanches in blossom
time! And, if one does not soon become
tired, it is quite as pleasant when one
walks. There are apple blossoms all
the way, and bright fresh grass by the
roadside. ..For along time, when one
looks back over the flat country, the
three tall spires of the cathedral at
Bayeux loom up above tho apple blos
soms and every thing else; but ono
loses sight of them at last, and thinks
only of the great drifts of apple blos
soms which fill tho air with sweetness.
By and by the Chateau de Tracy is seen,
half hidden by the trees about it; and
soon after the road turns, and there is
the single long street of Arromanches
before one on the edge of the cliff, and in
front the wide, curving bay. Perhaps it
is Augustwhen one goes to Arromanches,
and in that case he will see red apples
gleaming and twinkling among the
leaves, and the gardens at Arromanches
will be ablaze with tall spikes of holly
hock or lurid with gigantic sunflowers.
If one likes hollyhocks and sunflowers
better than apple blossoms, it is better
to see Arromanches in August. But the
people who go to Arromanches and lodge
at the Auberge Chretien go there for
the sake of the bathing and notforapple
blossoms or sunflower disks. They are
mostly people from the larger Norman
towns, with a sprinkling of English
tourists, and now and then a stray Amer
ican or two.
Wilfred Avery is one of these last
Brought here by some random freak of
travel, he has found the quiet life at the
Auberge Chretien and on the silvery
plage below the cliff so agreeable that he
has stayed here week after week, with
the time of his departure still unde
termined. Scattered about on the firm
white sands are many little! red and white
tents, in the shade of which people sit
through long summer hours reading,
talking with each other, or, what Is far
more profitable to a contemplative mind,
watching the sea. Wilfred does not find
the time hanging heavily on his hands
down here on the plage. He knows every
one about him, and as he is fairly good
looking, with cheerful, agreeable man
ners, he is a general favorite and a wel
come guest under any or all of the red
and white tents. The fishermen like to
have him stop and chat with them while
they are busy about their boats, and the
bare-legfred fisher -girls, crossing the
sands with their nets across their shoul
ders, often exchange a cheery bonjour
with him when they see him under the
shade of his tent. He is a simple
natured, generous soul, who would suf
fer torture himself rather than pain any
one else by word or deed. Every day,
nearly,, he writes a letter there in
his tent to his faf-o ff fiancee in
America; and when the year of wait
ing is over in which he has promised
not to see ber, to gratify some absurd
whim of her mother'B, he will return to
America and they will be married in
due time. Meanwhile he is amusing him
self in finding out all sorts of attract
ive nooks and corners of travel, with
the intention of bringing Eleanor to
them next year. Eleanor will be sure
to like Arromanches, he thinks, as he
paces the hard white sands or rambles
along the cliff. Sometimes at evening
he loaves the Auberge Chretien for a
chat with the fishermen sitting about on
their updrawn boats, just out of the
reach of the tide. The lights on the
cliff above twinkle cheerfully, and
through the line of spars and tangled
rigging the sea flashrs white in the
moonlight. The yoflffg man takes a
placid enjoyment in it all the gleam
ing sea, the twinkling lights, the gossip
ing talk of the flsherfolk. He knows by
this time the family history of half the
lwellers in Arromanches. He knows
why Jeanne Vauvray will not marry
either Simon Cauchon or his brother
Alphonse, both of whom have been in
love with her from their childhood; why
Louis Dumont goes every Sunday to
3ernay: how much money Henri Ser
pent made from hisSsh the year before;
and just what fish the tvre prefers for
his Friday dinners. At least, if he
does not know all these things, it is not
for want of hearing about them often.
And he is communicative in his turn,
and tells them much about America and
of the many places he has visited in his
travels, to all of which they listen in
tently, but with an inward convic
tion that Arromanches is better to live
in than any one of those strange foreign
places. But of Eleanor he says nothing.
Perhaps it might have been well to
have told them of her also.
One day he loses a little keepsake
that she gave him a small gold eye
glass hook and all the youngsters in
Arromanches scamper about on the
plttge the whole morning in search of it
far'him. But they fail to find it, and
Wilfred foels a little vexed over the
loss, for he remembers well the foolish
little talk, foolish yet so sweet, when she
first fasteued it upon his coat, months
before. Mme. Chretien takes a personal
interest in her lodger, like every one
else in Arromanches, and is quite dis
tressed to hear of his loss.
"But what would you?" she says.
"Every one must lose something in the
oourse of his life, and when it is notone
thing it is sure to be another. The
week before Monsieur came she lost a
silver pin that she had had for twenty
yoars, and about the same time her
cousin at St. Aubin lost his best cow,
and so it was, and she was very sorry for
monsieur, but what would vou? If one
did not iosra things sometimes pernaps j
one might be happier than It bon, J)ieu
intended who knows?" Wilfred laughs
softly to himself at this bit of philoso
phy, and madamo hastens Into the inn
yard to speak to Pauline, tho maid, who
is clattering about the pavement in her
wooden shoos, quite forgetful, appar
ently, that it will soon be time to serve
the dinner. Tho look of vexation re
turns to Wilfred's face when he isalono.
"I would rather lose almost any thing
elso," he says to himself. Just then
there is a knock at the glass door of his
room, which opens upon tho gallery en
circling tho auberge on the inner or
court-yard side, A tall, good-looking
fisher-girl stands there bare-footed and
bare-legged, holding in hor hand the
missing eyeglass hook.
"Is it this which Monsieur has lost?"
she says, somewhat timidly. Wilfred
eagerly responds that it is.
"I found it on the plage but now,"
says the girl, "as I was coming back to
the cliff with my net. Alphonse
Cauchon, it was be who said to ue that
the American Monsieur at the Auberge
Chretien had lost it, and Monsieur will
see that I have brought it at once to
him."
"It is very good of you to take so
much trouble," says Wilfred, gently, and
he is about to offer her a coin for the
service she has rendered him when the
girl shakes her head decidedly.
"But no, Monsieur, it is not necessary
to pay Elise Rigault for doing a simple
duty that costs her no trouble or pains."
"True, true," assents Wilfred, "but
Elise will not mind, I hope, taking some
little thing from me that will help to
keep toe American in mind after he has
left Arromanches." And, saying this,
he hands her a small, velvet-framed
picture of the Sistine Madonna which
stands on a table by him and on which
his eyes happen to fall at that moment.
Elise takes it hesitatingly.
"Surely," she says, "Monsieur can not
mean for me to have this!" And she
looks from the picture to Wilfred, and
from Wilfred back to the picture, in be
wilderment. "Yes, that is just what I do mean,"
answered the other, with decision.
Elsie looks about the room, with its
many little devices for comfort and lux
ury for Wilfred has something of the
sybarite in his composition and then at
the good-looking owner of them all, and
seems for a moment lost in thought
"Monsieur is very kind," she says at
length, "and he may be sure that Elise
will not forget him." And then she bids
the American good-evening, and goes
down the steep gallery staircase to the
inn yard, and disappears in the twi
light holding the velvet frame fast in
her hard hand.
Wilfred is too glad to regain Eleanor's
gift to think very much about the man
ner of its restoration, but the next
morning, as he sits under his tent, be
sees the fisher-girls crossing the sands
not far away from him. Among them is
Elise. "Bon jour, Monsieur," they call
out as they pass. Elise is the last one,
and she turns her head for another look
at him. He waves his hand kindly, and
she smiles and hurries on to her com
panions. The days go on quietly at Arro
manches. One day is just like another,
but the young man does not mind that
The walk down the plage after break
fast; the reading and writing under the
red and white tent; the chats with the
occupants of the other tents; the walks
towards Bayeux or elsewhere in the
afternoon; the evening spent among
the fishermen and their boats these
things are what fill up his harmless, if
not severely profitable, days. Every
day the lines of bare-legged fisher-girls
crosses the silvery sands and every day
he waves his hand lightly to Elise and
thinks of her not again till the next
time he sees her-
Elise's memory is longer. Indeed, he
is never far out of her mind. When she
is alone she repeats softly to herself the
words he said to her, and wonders
vaguely if all Americans are like him.
So the days go by with her; each with a
little pain, the cause of which she does
not quite know; each with a little
sweetness in it when she sees him under
his tent on the pluge, orcatches a glimpse
of him in the village.
But August conies at length to its
end, and Wil fred makes up his mind to
leave Arromanches. Every one is sorry
to hear that he is going, and fully hall
the village gathers about the diligence
in front of the Auberge Chretien on the
morning of his departure. All the
Chretien household aro there in full
force, of course, and with them many
of the fishermen and fisher-girls, and a
greater number of small chiliiren than
one would have believed existed in the
entire hamlet. It is an exceedingly
pleasant thing to bo young and a gen
eral favorite, and Wilfred enjoys very
much this spontaneous evidence of his
popularity. The farewells take up a
good deal of time so much, indeed, that
the diligence is at least twenty minutes
late when it starts for Bayeux.
"I shall come again next year," calli
out Wilfred from the diligence, and
then, amidst a general cry of "Bon voy
age, Monsieur," the diligence rolls away.
At the Chateau de Tracy the diligence
stops to take on another passenger, and
here, by the roadside, Wilfred sees Elise.
He docs not dream that she has taken an
early walk along the Bayeux road that
she may see him onoe more after all the
others have said their farewells. But
so it is, and fortune has been kind to
her, for the stopping of the diligence
has given her the opportunity for a
word with him while the luggage of the
new passenger is being taken on. She
nas on nor sabots now, ana is very noat
ly dressed.
"Monsieur must know that I had an
errand at tho Chateau, and so I could
not bid him farewell, as the others said
they should do at the Aubcrgo Chre
tien." She smiles as she says this, and Wil
fred believes her, says a fow kind words,
hopes ho shall see her there next year,
climbs back into tho diligence, and she
is loft standing alone at the gate of the
Chateau de Tracy. Then, and not till
then, her eyes fill with tears.
.
A ypar goes by, and Wilfred is
once more in Arromanches. " Things
bavo gone well with him mean
while, and Eleanor accompanies him
this time. Every ono is anxious to see
tho wife of the young American. Sho
would bo very nervous if sho knew how
critical are the eyes of these Norman
villagers who look at her so closely. But
she knows nothing of this, fortunately,
and, without any effort to do so, she
wins their hearts as completely as her
husband hf d done the year before, and
the general verdict is that she is quite
worthy to be the wife of the young
American. They are walking togother
on tho sands the morning after their ar
rival. One of the fishcr-girls is return
ing to the village. It is Elise, Wilfred
perceives, as she approaches them.
"See, Elise," said Wilfred, gayly,
"here is my wife; she who gave me the
little hook you found last summer."
Elise stops short "His wife!" She
shivers slightly, although the day is
warm. She tries to smile, but does not
speak. Wilfred takes her silence for
timidity, but there is a look in her eyes
as she gazes from him to Eleanor that
Eleanor understands better than her
husband can.
"My husband has told me of you," she
says, kindly, "and we' are both glad to
see you."
She wins the girl to say a few words,
and then they move away, and Elise is
left alono as she was a year ago at the
gate of tho Chateau de Tracy, but this
time not even the faintest gleam of a
shadowy hope stays with her to brighten
the future. And Wilfred will never
know. The secret was safe with
Eleanor, who read it instantly when she
looked in the eyes of Elise. She is sure
of it when they meet Elise again with
the same look of dumb pain in her eyes.
They leave Arromanches in a week or
two, and from behind a hedge on the
Bayeux road Elise watches their depart
ure. She has never put her thoughts
into words. She is conscious only of
suffering that she can not help, suffering
that is no one's fault, unless it be a fault
to be handsome and kind and-unob-serving.
A month after the Averys leave Arro
manches there reaches him a packet
from Mme. Chretien inclosing some
articles left behind by accident, and in
an accompanying note the writer says:
"Monsieur will be grieved to know of
the de;;th of Elise Rigault. It was but
a day or two after Monsieur and his
wife left Arromanches. It is thought
by soroo that she left one of her nets on
the rocks behind the pkige, and, going
to look for it at high tide, she may have
fallen on the stones and into the water.
It was Alphonse Cauchon who found her
there floating in the water, in a narrow
place between the rocks, which perhaps
Monsieur remembers. It is very strange
to us at Arromanches, for Elise could
swim, like all the girls who go out with
the nets. It may be that the fall on the
rocks made hor unconscious, but le bon
Dieu only knows."
"Poor Elise!" says Wilfred, pityingly,
and by and by goes out of doors and for
gets. "Poor Elise!" says Eleanor, and when
Wilfred comes back he soes she has been
weeping.
"Tender little heart!" he says, "weep
ing for one whom you saw but two or
three times, and of whom you know so
little."
And Eleanor is silent. Oscar Fay
Adams, in Christian Union.
PITH AND POINT. ,
-Labor rids us of three evils tedi
ousness, vice and poverty.
Conscious innocence blushes where
brazen guilt never changes color. Phil
adelphia Call.
It is often more difficult to obliterate
traces of spilled ink that drops of blood.
Chicago Mail.
Occasionally you soe a rich man who
is so economical that he would enjoy be
ing poor. Atchison Globe.
Shallow men are generally despised,
but you hav.e less to dread from a shal
low man than a deep one.
If every man would mind his own
business, there would be a heap less jar
in the world.
A good many people know the value
of a dollar who do not realize the value
of a hundred cents. Somorville Jour
nal. Don't go back on your friends whon
you're in luck, nor give away your uiu
berel just because the sun shines. De
troit Free Press.
We can all give good advice, but
constant vigilance will hardly insure
us setting a good example halt the
tim. Milwaukee Journal.
None are so fond of secrete as those
who, do not mean to keep them; such
persons covet secrets as a spendthrift
does money, for the purpose of circula
tion Cjl ton.
Never take the last train when you
can help it, says Dr. Talmage. Much
of the trouble in life is caused by the
fact that people in their engagements
wait till the last minute.